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"Stay out of trouble," I laugh, giving him a quick kiss goodbye and a smile of appreciation.
"Never," he whispers, eyes flashing wildly.
I watch as the two of them have some weird exchange, giving each other a small, stern nod before I leave the hall with Theo.
We head down the hallway, hand-in-hand, toward the empty rooms. People scatter out of our way, pressing against the wall while they stare at our locked palms in horror. I have to hold back a laugh, imagining their thoughts.
She's with that psychopath.
And what's even more funny… is that it could mean both TheoandGrey.
Our little studio room is exactly as I remember—a void, empty of life. We sit down on the floor and Theo reaches into his pocket, pulling out his tattooing kit. My heart races in excitement, my hips shifting as I get comfortable.
Theo looks over at me, doing a double take before his eyebrow twitches.
"What happened to your thigh?" he asks casually.
"Huh?" I look down, noticing that my shorts have ridden up, exposing Grey's hand drawn artwork. "Oh…"
I'm not sure how to explain that, mind tumbling and turning as I try to find words. Theo just laughs under his breath, shaking his head.
"He's a possessive little shit."
"Well," I start, lifting my arm to show off the tattoo. "He felt it was only fair since you got there first."
Theo smirks to himself, sterilizing the needle. "Did he now? And if I tattoo you again today, is he going to make you bleed more?"
"Probably," I answer honestly, not at all worried. "Are youtattooing me today?"
"Yes," he says, gesturing for me to move closer. "Give me your arm."
I slide along the cold ground until our knees are touching, face-to-face. Holding up my arm, Theo scans over the previous ink, nodding happily.
"It healed well."
"You seem surprised."
He sneers. "Considering what Whittingham put you through, I'm definitely surprised."
"Fair call," I mutter, wondering if the staff have noticed the fresh ink. They would have to be blind to have missed it, but then again, nothing we do seems to surprise them.
I fill Theo in on the earlier events while he gets everything ready, watching as his face contorts in anger. He dips the tip of the needle into the small bottle of jet-black ink, twisting it to shake a few loose droplets before positioning my arm onto his knee. I rest my arm against him, watching as he pierces my skin.
I don't flinch at all, unfazed by the burn. Theo takes notice too, shaking his head with a laugh.
"Pain tolerance has gotten better."
"It was never an issue," I argue. "You just exceed the level of normal."
He smirks, focusing on my skin. "I'm not going to argue with that."
More patterns appear over my arm as he expands on his previous work. I stay still, talking to him about things, and filling him in on the meeting from hell.
Surprisingly, he doesn't say much, but I can tell by the anger in his eyes that he's holding back—probably so he doesn't accidentally hurt me with the needle.
"What's solitary confinement like?" I ask him, knowing he's been in there before.
"It's fine for me," he says coolly. "But for everyone else, it's probably hell."
